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Chapter 14

Butch returned when breakfast was being prepared by Jesus. The gang had been poorly supplied for weeks, but Skinny had successfully gone out to shoot some rabbits in the earliest hours of the morning. Jesus' rabbit stew was nothing to write home about, but it would feed the hungry outlaws and keep their whining for more substances at a bay for atleast a few good hours.

Butch dismounted stiffly and gave the exhausted chestnut mare a few half meant pats on her powerful neck. Damn this horse for being the most patient creature he had ever come across in his lifetime. Ray got up from his spot around the campfire and approached his leader when he tied a second horse to a tree.

"Evans' horse, I take it?" The oldest gang member asked, patting the scruffy looking old grey horse. "Cause I'm pretty sure you left with only one."

Butch nodded, removing the horse's saddle and throwing it unceremoniously down on the soggy ground. Dust clouds flying through the air from the old unkempt saddle blanket, its Aztec patterns in faded colors. "He's been riding that ol' nag for as long as I've known him" he mumbled. "She'll do fine for the girl."

Ray raised an eyebrow and looked over his shoulder for a moment, the young woman still vast asleep in her little corner. "Don't Evans need the horse himself? Or should I not even inquire about the fool?" His leader chuckled softly and shrugged. "Ah don't think he fancy riding for a while to come, let me put it that way." He said with an evil wink.

Ray didn't seem moved by the news that might have disgusted men much tougher than himself. He had been riding with Butch for so long, nothing would surprise the old man anymore. "I take it you killed him?" he asked.

Butch sniffed, looking up at the tree tops for a moment, as if contemplating his answer. "Ah don't think ah did.." he spoke eventually, glaring at Ray. "Ah thought I'd let the fool make himself useful to me one more time. After that he can die as many deaths as he wants. What's it to ye anyway?"

The older man shrugged and shook his head. "Nuthin'. I didn't like Evans any more than you did. What he did to women wasn't right. Ah was just thinkin'.. if ye didn't kill him.. then what te Hell have ye been doing te him? Or is that somethin' ah really don't need to hear before breakfast?"

Butch just gave him a toothy grin and fished the bottle of whiskey from his calloused hand. He took a deep swig, sending the strong liquid to trickle down his chin before wiping it away with his shirt sleeve. "Always makes me so damn thirsty." He told his gang member.

"Yea, ah git it. Spare me any details." Said Ray. Butch shrugged and took another swig of whiskey. "If you insist.." he chuckled.

"Ah do. And that girl aint goin' anywhere soon. She aint fit te ride, er do anything. Evans fucked her up pretty bad. So whatever you took from him, I hope it hurt."

Butch peered around Ray at the sleeping form of the young woman that had saved his life, his expression vacant as he felt the liquor kick in and cloud his tired brain. "It hurt.." He confirmed, giving Ray a small smile, his silver plated tooth showing. "Surprised ye didn't hear his wailing from here.. he was at it like a little gurl. Sounded worse than she did.. " He mumbled, nodding at the young woman.

Ray gazed at him with a stern expression, the kind that told any member of the gang to quit fucking around and face the music.

"She can't ride.." he repeated. "And we need te keep movin'. If Evans reaches Colby.."

The gangleader's expression darkened. "Shut up.." Butch interrupted him and took a step closer. "Ye abandoned me at that fucking ranch when ah wasn't fit te ride, and now yer gonna abandon the one who took care of my sorry ass. Ye wasted yer credit on that little trick. Don't think ah forgot. Ah'll deal with you when we git this matter solved. Until then.. ye stay out of it." He hissed at the older man, and moved past him making sure his shoulder bumped into Ray's roughly.

A silence fell over the rest of the gang when they noticed Butch walking up to the sleeping girl, and sinking down stiffly to one knee beside her cot. Feeling their stares, the leader peered over his shoulder at his men.

"The next pair o' eyes ah feel burning into mah back are mine!" He growled. From the tone in his voice, the gang knew he meant it, and they averted their eyes immediately, focusing on their breakfast instead. It seemed a shame to wake her. She had never failed to grand him his much needed rest when he lay ill. But no matter how much he hated the old fool for reminding him, Ray had a point. The rangers would be hot on their trail once Evans' had done his story. And if he was to believe Frank's explanation, the girl's life was on the line as well.

Butch leaned in to take a closer look at the bandages around the young girl's head. Barret had obviously realized her well-being was to his own benefits as well. He had done a decent job stitching her wound and binding it in whiskey soaked wrappings. More decent than usual, anyway. Figuring he needed her awake to see in what state she was, he reached out and shook her shoulder, trying to be as gentle as he possibly could. With a startled gasp she opened her eyes and backed away from his touch.

"whoa there.. easy now." He said, holding up his hands. "It's only me." He grinned, knowing full well how ridiculous that must have sounded. Nevertheless, she calmed when she recognized him, probably more than she should. "You're back.." she whispered, her voice hoarse and still uncooperative from her screams of pain.

He nodded. "Sit up.." He told her and took hold of her arm to help her pull herself into a sitting position. "Slowly.." He instructed. The world danced in front of her eyes, and she felt a wave of nausea hit her shocked system. But his hands on her shoulders steadied her, and she knew he wouldn't let her fall back onto the saddle blanket.

"Look at me.." He said.

With difficulty, she did as she was told, and gazed into his blue eyes. Her head throbbed as if there was a demon locked inside her brain that was trying to club its way out of her skull with a hammer. Butch made her follow his finger with her eyes and grinned when she did so successfully.

"How's yer head, little lady?" he asked, keeping his voice down to avoid his men listening in on their conversation.

She brought a hand to her forehead to steady herself, and slowly her mind started clearing up. Enough for her to look at him without seeing double. He didn't look worried, more observant and patiently waiting for her answer. He let her go when he was certain she could hold herself up and sat back a little, giving her room to collect her bearing.

"Hurts.." she said, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to get rid of the dizziness.

"Hurts, huh?" He said, reaching out to take her hand away from her eyes. "Don't punish yer eyes now, they can't help it either." He reached into his coat pocket and showed her a small branch with tiny yellow flowers. "You know what this is?"

She stared at it as if she was drunk, not able to focus her vision on it completely. "Looks like some of the weeds that grow around our ranch." She mumbled.

"The Injuns call it Snakeweed. Strongest painkiller I know.. I'll prepare it for you, if ye promise me to try and eat something. Do we have a deal, little miss shark?"

Her stomach turned at the prospect of food, but she was more than willing to try anything to take away the harsh throb in her head. She nodded weakly in agreement and was mildly aware of the wink he gave her just before he got up and walked away.

Frank got to his feet quickly when he noticed Butch was done talking to the young girl and made his way back to join the others "How's she doin' Butch?" He asked nervously. "How's er head?"

"Git her to eat something.." Butch said without looking at him. Frank nodded frantically. The gang leader sat down on one of the blankets around the campfire and started plucking the yellow leaves off the branch and putting them in an empty cup. The others observed his actions curiously, but Butch gave no explanation and ignored them completely.

"Ye don't actually believe that Injun witch doctor stuff.." Barret huffed, as he seemed to be the only one realizing what Butch was doing. The gang leader gave no reply, causing Barret to scoff mockingly. "Only Laudanum kills pain, Butch. There's actual science to back that up." Barret continued.

Butch shot him an irritable look when he reached to grab the kettle with hot water, pouring it on the leaves slowly. "Ah believe what I've seen." He grumbled. "Laudanum's only for hopeless cases like yourself, ye idiot."

While the hot water was soaking up the healing qualities of the leaves, Frank had sat down next to the young woman with a plate of food that probably looked worse than it tasted. "How ye feelin' miss Eleanor?" He peeped softly. She did her best to smile at him in reassurance, not wanting the young man to worry more than necessary. As the memories became more clear, she realized he had been the one that saved her life. She reached out to grasp his hand affectionately, causing him to look rather panicked.

"I'm fine, Frank. I haven't had the opportunity to thank you yet. For all you've done for me." She said.

He blinked, staring at her in confusion. "Whut..did ah do?"

For some reason, she was utterly grateful for the young outlaw's ever present confusion. He never failed to make her laugh. Even now, through her pain, she chuckled at his ignorance and shook her head.

"You were my knight in shining armor, Frank. All that was missing was the white horse." She told him kindly, giving his slender hand a small squeeze. He beamed at her, his face an uncommon shade of red.

"Well ah couldn't just stand there and watch that man do whut he wanted te you." He uttered, grinning from ear to ear. "But ah think Butch got em real good last night, so that's all taken care of now." Her smile faded slowly at that news and she peered over Frank's shoulder at the gang leader. She vividly remember the horrible dream she had about it, and now wondered if it could have been more than just images of a feverish brain.

Noticing her uneasiness at the subject, Frank cleared his throat and placed the plate on her lap. "Anyways.." he started, nodding at the food. "Butch says ye need te eat if ye want te git better." It took her a while to avert her gaze from the vicious leader of this motley crew of bandits, longer than she liked to admit to herself. But eventually, she looked down at the unappetizing mess on the old iron plate.

"What is it?" she asked, staring at it with an uncertain look on her face. Frank frowned, following her gaze. "Ah have te admit ah like yer mother's rabbit stew much better.. But it aint all bad. It's all right." He shrugged.

She didn't think she still had tears left, but when Frank mentioned her mother, she felt her eyes fill up and cloud her vision. She reached up to wipe them away roughly, not wanting to cry in front of a gang of outlaws. She noticed Frank's sympathetic expression and tried to smile through the tears running down her cheeks.

"I hate crying.." she admitted, chuckling bitterly.

"I do too. But sometimes ah can't help myself." Frank said and shrugged. "Ah always cry when ah see a dog. Cause that reminds me of the dog ah left behind at home. He was mah best friend."

She picked up the spoon while listening to his story, feeling distracted from her own pain. And reminded that she was surrounded by people who all had their experience with losses. If there were people on God's good earth that understood her sadness, it was this crew of misfits.

"what was his name?" she asked as she took a careful first bite. Chewing on the tough meat slowly. She had to admit, it looked worse than it tasted.

"Sam.. And before Sam, we had Spot. I don't know why mah pa named him Spot, he had no spots at all." Frank said, looking sincerely confused. She couldn't help but chuckle at his endearing story. Her tears had stopped and she was slowly calming down.

"Thank you, Frank." She said, taking another spoonful, half expecting another question about what she was thanking him for. But he only smiled at her. He knew full well he was cheering her up.

Butch returned when she was halfway through her plate, and kicked the side of Frank's leg, indicating he wanted the young man's spot. "Git up and go do something useful." He grumbled. Frank got to his feet clumsily, dusting off his pants with a small. "Yes, Butch"

"My moment of revenge." The gang leader announced and sank down to one knee beside her, handing over the steaming cup. "You've been forcing that bitter crap down my throat for days. Now it's mah turn."

She peered into the cup curiously. The dark yellow liquid giving off a strange sweet smell. A scent she recognized after rain in the summer. "Does it taste bad?" she asked.

"Ah don't think it works with sugar in it." He mocked her. She had told him the exact same thing concerning laudanum days ago. He grinned at her unamused expression and nodded at the cup. "ye gotta chuck that while it's hot."

She took a careful sip and made a face. The taste a foul bitter sweet. He laughed as if someone had just cracked the funniest joke of the century. The warm liquid reached her stomach and made it turn in uneasiness, a simple reaction to something tasting that unnaturally bad.

"Disgusting.." she complained.

"All of it." He spoke sternly, his smile suddenly gone, as if she was a stubborn sick child refusing to take its medicine. "I want to see the bottom of that cup."

"Yes, nurse.." She sighed in annoyance and gave him an angry glare, but it didn't seem to impress him at all. Deciding she wanted to get it over with, she downed the contents of the cup, swallowing with difficulty. She handed him back the cup, and he inspected it tauntingly, holding it upside down to see if she had missed a few drops.

"Good girl.." He complimented. "Now lay back down and close your eyes." He instructed, taking hold of her arm to gentle guide her back onto the saddle blanket. She could feel the effects of the leaves starting to work on her brain. "I feel lightheaded.." she said in slight alarm, reaching up to touch her forehead.

"yea, don't fight it. It's alright. I told ye before it's potent stuff." He said, his voice sounding oddly twisted.

"Will you stay with me?"

There was a short silence, followed by a deep sigh and a dull thud as he sat down in a more comfortable position. She vaguely heard him remove his belt, the jingling of the buckle sounded like bells to her hallucinating brain.

"Ahm here.."

The confirmation gave her a sense of safety that allowed her to relax and leave her body to be worked on by the plant's healing qualities. A remedy older than her entire family's bloodline no doubt. She had failed to ask Butch where he had learned Indian healing methods, but she wasn't sure he was willing to answer such a thing anyway. The last thing she felt was someone draping a blanket over her now shivering form, after that she lost consciousness.

R&R please!